


Warmth

by acerbitas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort with an agenda, M/M, Past Torture, Theon in a blanket, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acerbitas/pseuds/acerbitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roose makes sure Theon knows he is in charge, and Theon gets some comfort out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on my Boltonfest fic now. I swear it.

Reek watched the door that Ramsay had exited, steeling himself for his Lord’s return.  He was sitting on the far end of the dining table, free to eat now that the others were done celebrating.  He put his head down and hunched over.  Underneath the table his bare feet pressed against each other.

A drunken Skinner had made it a game to force Reek to beg for food like a dog.  Reek had whined and whimpered, and when that hadn’t worked he'd licked Skinner’s hand and nuzzled against it.  Ramsay had laughed and called him a bitch in heat, but it had been worth it for the scraps he had received.

 Left alone to assuage his hunger pains, Reek felt relief grow inside of him.  Maybe Ramsay, drunk on wine and sport, would let him be for the night.  All he wanted was to be left alone.

 _No.  All I want is to serve,_ he admonished.  _I only wish to obey._ Obey rhymed with flay, so it was easier to remember.  Sometimes Theon snuck bad thoughts like that into Reek’s head, even though Reek told him to go away.

Finished with his food, Reek got up, hugging his bowl to his chest.  He slunk over to the far corner of the room and crouched down, back against the stone.  It reminded him a little of the dungeon, which was comforting.  In the dungeon he was often left alone.  Reek pushed the bowl away, and made himself as small as possible by curling into a ball.

Sometimes Theon was in the back of his mind, watching, and sometimes Theon went away completely.  The worst, though, was when Reek was in the back, because sometimes Theon did frightening things or thought disobedient thoughts.  He was always afraid that Theon was going to do something to get him hurt.

Just when Reek decided he had been blessedly forgotten, he saw Roose Bolton enter.  Usually Roose ignored his son’s toy, so Reek’s skin began to crawl as the Lord came towards him.

Reek’s corner seemed to shrink as Roose entered it.  He regarded Reek coldly, and Reek could not help but cringe.  There was enough of Ramsay’s likeness in him to make Reek start shaking.  It wasn’t Roose’s features, Reek realized, as much as his presence.  He wasn’t sure if he should stand in deference; he bowed his head.

 _Please don’t hurt me,_ Reek thought.  _I’m not Theon.  I didn’t laugh at your leeches.  I never did that._

“I’m not Theon,” he blurted before he could stop himself.  “I’m not.”

Roose was silent and his face unreadable.  Reek couldn’t tell if Roose was really smirking or if he was imagining things in his fear.

“I just want to serve Lord Ramsay,” Reek said.  He was beginning to feel desperate as the silence continued.  “That’s all I want.  Please.”

The Lord regarded him with what seemed like amusement.  “Did my bastard teach you to say that?”

Reek didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent.  His heart was beating so hard he could hear it.  Maybe if he was boring Roose would go away.  Sometimes when he was boring Ramsay went away.

Roose didn’t say anything else, and Reek sensed he was waiting for a response.  Reek felt the Bolton’s eyes boring into him.  He kept his own fixed on Roose’s boots.

“Lord Ramsay taught me everything,” he finally managed.  Ramsay had made him in the dungeons of the Dreadfort.  He had carved Reek out from a youth named Theon and taught him his name.

Roose snorted.  “And how very lucky you are.”

Reek didn’t say anything.  He felt the familiar tendrils of shame grip him, and they grew worse underneath Roose’s gaze.

“Stand up.”

Reek complied.  In his haste he nearly tripped: the pitfalls of mangled toes.

Roose reached out and grabbed Reek’s jaw, but Theon jerked away.  Horrified, Reek opened his mouth to apologize for Theon’s infraction.  Before he could, though, Roose grabbed him again with a tighter grip.  He moved Reek’s head around, examining his sunken cheekbones and pale hair.  Then he pushed Reek’s mouth open to examine the remains of his teeth.

“What a mess,” he sighed.

“I had to learn to obey,” Reek explained.  “Lord Ramsay only hurts me when I don’t obey.”

Roose nodded in an indulgent way before tugging Reek’s collar and examining the dirt that had gotten its way underneath.  Reek’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

He took Reek’s hand and studied his remaining fingers.  Lifting Reek’s shirt, Roose revealed the welts and bruises that covered his stomach.  Then Roose reach down lower, to Reek’s crotch.  He found nothing there to examine.

“And you stink like hell too,” he muttered.

Reek wanted to explain that he was supposed to stink.  Smelling rotten was part of obedience.  But he felt like an animal being examined at market, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak.

Stepping around the prisoner, Roose lifted the back of his shirt to reveal a plethora of whip marks and scars.  Putting his hands on some of the new ones, he muttered something under his breath.

Theon despised being touched, but Reek felt like Theon should be grateful nothing worse was happening.  He did not understand why Roose cared about his body.

“You do what he says?”

“Yes.  Always.”  Reek couldn’t remember the last time he’d intentionally disobeyed.  Mistakes were different.  He had made so many this month he could not remember them all.

Roose stopped looking at his wounds, and regarded him.  “It’s a miracle you are alive.”

Reek stayed silent.  He wanted to die, so it wasn’t.  Not really.

“You’re his pet.  He can do whatever he wants with you, as I’m sure you’ve learned.”

Reek nodded, not sure where this was going.

 “However: I’m the Lord of this castle, and I outrank him.  What _I_ say goes.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”  Reek hated the implications, because it meant that he might have to do something that would make Ramsay angry.  He backed fully into the corner.

“I am not sure you do,” Roose told him dourly.  “My son’s…pursuits with you have taught you he is the master.  But I can have you flayed as well, and I am not as concerned about your life as he is.”

Reek swallowed, dry-mouthed.  The world separated from him, growing distant like a castle from a rider in mist.   He was apart now, and any pain he experienced would have to come through a filter. “Is there something you wish of me, m’lord?”

“Get on your knees.”

Reek thought he knew what Roose wanted.  Getting back down on the floor, he winced as the pain in his back increased.  _I should be grateful,_ he thought, mostly to quell Theon’s protests.  _He is not going to hurt me.  And if he does, he won’t be as hard._

But Roose didn’t reach for his belt.  Reek had thought he was going to either to hit or use him.  Instead Roose took Reek’s jaw in his hand again.  “I am going to order you some blankets; it is going to be cold tonight.  Would you like some salve for your back?”

Reek’s mind spun as fast as it could, trying to work out what to say.  Ramsay had just whipped Reek three days ago, and Reek wasn’t supposed to have something to help the pain.  How else could he remember to obey?

“Thank you m’lord.  You are too kind.”  Reek was desperate to make Roose happy now, because such kindnesses were rare and overwhelming.  He knew, though, that Ramsay would be mad.  “If my Lord commands it,” he finally managed.  “I am grateful.  But I’m not supposed to have salve.  Lord Ramsay says that it will dull the lesson.”

Roose’s mouth twitched.  “You would reject my gift?”

Reek wanted to cry.  He didn’t want the blankets to be taken away, but he also didn’t want to disobey Ramsay.  This was a test of loyalty, and either way he was going to lose.  But Roose was right in front of him, and Roose could flay him too.

“…No,” Reek rescinded.  “No.  I apologize.  I want it.  I am thankful.”

“Good.”

Reek didn’t know what to say back, but luckily Lord Bolton turned and left him then.  He pushed himself back as far as he could.  Drawing his arms around himself, he shivered with cold and terror.

 _All I want is to be left alone._ Theon’s miserable thoughts came to him unbidden.  _It’s all I want._ Reek wanted Theon to be silent.  He was trying to quell his terror about the salve, and Theon was not helping.  Maybe, he told himself nonsensically, Ramsay wouldn’t find out.

When a servant girl brought him the salve and blankets, he turned around silently and pulled up his shirt.  Reek could not help jerking away from her touch.  Every time he felt her hand on his back, his shoulder flinched.  It helped the pain, but Reek’s mind was already in the future, where none of this had been worth it.  As she left he caught a glimpse of her face; she was crying.  _Why?_

Reek reached for the blankets.  They were as soft as the ones on Lady Arya’s bed.  He pushed his fingers into them.  At first he was afraid to do more than that, because in the back of his mind he thought it might all be a trick.  Ramsay would come out of the shadows, laughing at him, and take them away.

Nobody came to torment him, though, and he was really, finally alone.  His heart slowed, and he unwrapped the blankets.  They were pink, and emblazoned with the Bolton crest.  Reek hurriedly turned them over so he couldn’t see the flayed man anymore.  He pulled the cloth around himself, tightly, ashamed that his grime was already ruining it.

For the first time in a long time, he felt warm.  His back didn’t hurt as much.  Pulling the blankets tighter, he lay down on the floor.  When he curled into a ball, he was fully covered, and only some wisps of gray hair poked from the top.  His heart slowed further.  He was reminded of somebody else’s memories.  Of a mother who had loved him, and wrapped him in her arms when his brothers had made fun.

Reek knew they weren’t his memories, not really, but they comforted him nonetheless.  He wasn’t sure what Theon’s mother had looked like anymore.  But she had had strong arms, and she had loved him.  Reek didn’t dream of being chased or beaten that night.


End file.
